


Love in action

by Signe_chan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was not a homosexual and he had the certificate to prove it. </p><p>AU. Castiel is an ex-gay counsellor, Dean is his patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in action

Castiel was not a homosexual and he had the certificate to prove it. He displayed the certificate on the wall of his office, framed in a dark wood. Next to it on the right was his degree in theology, another hard earned piece of paper, and on the left was a photograph of his family, taken the day he had finally been declared straight. He work a suit and held his certificate in his hand. To his right, his mother smiled gently, her happiness evident in every line on her body. To his left stood Gabriel, his older brother, a hand resting on Castiel’s shoulder. His father wasn’t in the shot, he’d been working that day, but Castiel had already gone through counselling to address his abandonment issues from his father and how they had lead him to seek love from other men so he was okay with him not being there. He knew his father was busy but he also had faith in the fact that his father loved him. 

That day had been the best day of Castiel’s life. Not like his college graduation, when he had stood alone. That day had been perfect. Gabriel had patted him on the back and wished him happiness. His mother had held his hand and told him that she had never been more proud of him, that she felt as though she finally had her son back. 

He had been loved. 

Other that the pictures, he kept his office remarkably free of personal belongings. Most of the other offices were crammed with pictures and mementos, but Castiel preferred to keep things simple, safe. 

His mother had been less pleased when, on completing the program, Castiel had been chosen. He got the call a month after graduating. It was a Sunday, and he’d spent the morning in church, praying for a direction to his life. His office job was not fulfilling and he was having more and more trouble fighting the idea that he could do more. That god had a plan for him. He was thinking of joining the priesthood, but on walking out of the church that day he had witness two boys, they could not be more then fifteen, kissing in the street. The rest of the congregation had tutted, wondering at their audacity to commit sin in front of a holy building, but Castiel knew they were a message for him, he had been chosen. 

The centre he came through was not recruiting, but they refereed him to their sister centre in Kansas and within a week he had relocated. 

To say that Castiel enjoyed his work would be an understatement. For Castiel, his work was a calling. Every new boy or girl who came through his office he tried to aid with the conviction of one who had himself sinned and had been redeemed. When a patient would fail, would leave the centre to return to their sin, he would pray for them as his work mates condemned their weakness. Every morning he would be in his office by 8AM, and often he would not go to bed himself until midnight. 

Castiel, for the first time in his life, was content: his only hope was that he could stay here like this forever. 

~*~*~*~  
“Castiel?” 

Castiel looked up to find Dolores lounging in the doorway, her hips tilted in the way he knew he found sexually attractive. She smiled at him, full lips painted a strange bubblegum pink that made them look unreal, as though a child had drawn a person and painted the lips on as an afterthought. Castiel knew that Dolores wanted to sleep with him, but he didn’t need to prove himself. He had his calling, that was all he needed. 

“Yes, Dolores,” he said, leaning back a little so as to appear more relaxed. She smiled and stepped into the room, her heels tapping on the floor. 

“I just had a call, guy by the name of Winchester. In the Marines or something. Apparently his oldest son has just come out and they’d like to talk about sending him here?” The lilt of Dolores’ voice made it a question, and Castiel did find that pleasant, almost musical. He glanced to his calendar. 

“Actually, I have an opening today that should be suitable for an initial assessment,” he said, calmly. He had been intending to use the time to visit the church, but his work was here and the task god had set him took priority over prayer. “You may call them back and ask if three is suitable. “

“Are you sure,” Dolores asked, leaning against the desk. He noticed that her nails were short, but the same bubblegum pink as her lips. “You need to remember to take some time for yourself too. I know this is your mission and all, Castiel, but you need to remember to look after you.” 

“I’m fine,” he said, offering Dolores a small smile, which didn’t seem to do much to convince her. “I would not be able to live with myself if I turned away one in need,” he finished, and Dolores nodded this time, her smile softening. 

“Well, ok, I’ll call them back then,” Dolores said, turning. For a second she paused at the door, her fingers tightening around the frame, as though she was thinking of saying something, and for a moment Castiel feared this was going to be the moment where they had that conversation. The conversation where she asked him to take her out and he explained that he could never satisfy her, never love her as a woman needed to be loved, because he was one of God’s chosen and that meant more than anything. 

She didn’t say it though, not that time. After a second she tensed her shoulder, then dropped her hand and walked away and, with a relieved sigh, Castiel returned to his morning bible reading. 

~*~*~*~  
When Castiel had first arrived at the rainbow centre, he had arrived as a counsellor. There to share his experience with others attempting to do as he had – to end their homosexual feelings. The administrator of the project, Zachariah, had soon identified a deep commitment to the cause in him and he had risen quickly to join the permanent staff who worked through counselling, prayer and patience to improve the lives of their patients. 

The rainbow centre was special in that if offered counselling sessions to anyone, but also boarding facilities for those who felt the need to remove themselves from the world as part of their treatment. Each patient was paired with a mentor while there, one of the permanent counsellors, who was referred to as their angel. Castiel had found that odd when he joined. He was not, after all, an angel. But he understood they meant it in the sense of having an angel on one’s shoulder. 

Castiel gave each of his patients his number, made it known to them that he would answer if they needed him at any time. He prayed for each of them, even after they left. He sat with them when they needed him. Talked with them, prayed with them, hoped that they could find the peace he did. 

Castiel had almost the best success rate in the centre, second only to Zachariah himself. He made a point of keeping in touch with those he had mentored after they left his care and had acted as best man at two of their weddings. 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel saw many kinds of people in his work. Both this and his life before as a gay man had taught him that gay men do not conform to the stereotypes that society forced on them, that anyone could fall into the trap of homosexuality. Still, he would never have thought of Dean Winchester as a gay man, and he was certainly different from anyone who had entered Castiel’s office before. 

The Winchesters were prompt. The father was clean and well presented, very clearly military in the way he carried himself. When Dolores opened the door for them he entered first, scanning the room before stepping aside to let his wife and son through. His wife was a pretty woman, she looked kind and she was clearly the focus of her family attention, both her husband and her son standing protectively close to her. There were burn marks on her face and he couldn’t help but wonder where they came from. 

The son, he gave Castiel pause. Dean Winchester was tall, nicely built; clearly he took care of his body. There was a kind of untamed masculinity about him, the way that he stood and dressed, that Castiel was unused to seeing in those who came through his office. He was strong, he carried himself with a confidence that Castiel found intriguing. His face was attractive, it was clear that any number of women would be drawn to him so he had not turned to homosexuality for lack of opportunity. In fact, he appeared in every was the perfect example of a man’s man. Relaxed, confident in himself and his appeal. 

Castiel stood and smiled, offering his hand to shake. 

“Hello, it’s good to meet you all. I’m Castiel Novak.” 

“John Winchester,” the father said gruffly, shaking Castiel’s hand as though he intended to pull it out of its socket. He looked uncomfortable to be here and Castiel understood why, this wasn’t an easy conversation. 

“Mary,” the mother said, and her handshake was firmer then he’d expected. Her smile was more certain, making him wonder if she hadn’t been the one to suggest this as a solution. 

“Hey, I’m Dean,” the son said, one hand still in his jeans pocket, he head the other out for Castiel to shake, accompanying it with a tilt of his head and an easy smile. His handshake was firm like his mothers, not aggressive, but reassuring. His palms were rough as though he was accustomed to physical work and his hands were warm. 

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said, squeezing Dean’s hand lightly before withdrawing and sitting back down. There was a little manoeuvring as the Winchester sat. Both Dean and his father moved to pull the chair out for Mary, and she smiled at them graciously, slipping into her seat. John took the seat closest to her and, after a seconds hesitation, Dean backed away and took the other seat in the room. 

“It’s good to meet you, Mr Novak,” Mary said, settling into her seat. 

“Please, call me Castiel,” Castiel replied, smiling for her. The first step in the process was for everyone to relax and speak honestly, and Castiels role here was to facilitate that. The centre was not in the business of detaining those who did not want to be cured, but only working with those who did. 

“Castiel,” John said, sitting forward. “Where’s that from?” 

Castiel smiled serenely. People often found his name strange, asked after its origin. Many presumed that because they didn’t immediately recognise it, it was foreign. 

“I am named for an angel,” he said, folding his hands carefully in front of him. “Castiel is the angel of Thursday, and as I was born on a Thursday my parents named me for him.” 

John nodded in acknowledgement, but he still seemed uncomfortable, looking around the office as though be believed Castiel had secreted a pile of explosives or a group of terrorists in his filing cabinet. Castiel shrugged it off; it was not John’s motives he was here to examine. 

“Perhaps you could start by telling me what brought you here today,” Castiel said, addressing his question to Dean. 

“Isn’t that obvious,” John cut in, shifting in his seat. “We’re here because Dean’s not right and he needs to get fixed. We’re hardly going to be here for a social visit!” 

“I’m sorry, let me rephrase,” Castiel said. “I want Dean to tell me what brought him here.” 

“If it’s all the same,” Dean interrupted. “Mom, Dad, can the two of you wait outside?” 

“Dean…” 

“I just, look, talking about this shit to a stranger is hard enough, just…” 

“Watch your mouth,” his father snapped but before I could intervene Mary held her hands up, bringing their attention back to her again. I was already beginning to formulate some ideas about this family. 

“If that’ll make you more comfortable Dean,” she said with a soft smile. “Is there somewhere we can wait?” 

“There’s a waiting room next to the secretary’s office,” Castiel said calmly, and smiled as Mary lead her husband out into the hall and away from them. Dean watched them go, then took to looking around the office, seemingly suddenly unable to look Castiel in the eye. Castiel let him, content for now to watch as Dean gathered his thoughts. It was when Dean saw the certificate on the wall that he spoke again. 

“You’ve been through this?” he asked, standing up to move nearer, as though he expected the words to turn into something else on closer inspection. 

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. He didn’t offer any more detail, people tended to use his past as a way of deflecting the conversation away from themselves and Castiel didn’t like to enable that kind of behaviour. 

“So, it works?” Dean asked after a moment, turning to look over his shoulder. “You can really help me be normal?” 

“It worked for me, though you have to understand I can’t guarantee it’ll work for you. My path was a long one and the lord helped me overcome my sins. Are you a religious man, Dean?” 

“No,” Dean said with a lazy shrug. He turned and dropped back into his chair. “I mean, I guess I don’t know? There’s a lot of crap in the world, I can’t help but think that, if there is a god, why doesn’t he do something about it?” 

“It’s a good question,” Castiel said with a nod. “And it’s fine. While my faith was a large part of my own redemption I have worked with non-believers with good results. My question, Dean, is why do you wish to fight this? Because it will be a battle. What is your motivation to succeed?” 

“That’s pretty easy,” Dean said with a lazy grin. “I just want to be a normal guy, you know. Have a wife, two kids, a dog. I mean, damnit, I’m a mechanic Cas, I’m not a queer!” 

Castiel blinked a little at the nickname. He wasn’t normally the kind of man who invited such familiarity, especially not from people who barely knew him, but he found that he liked the way it fell from Dean’s lips. Cas, as though they were good friends. He found himself hoping Dean would join them and let them help him. 

“I’ve tried for so many years to just be normal, Cas. But it’s too hard, I can’t do this alone. I had a girlfriend and she was talking about marriage and all I could think was I was going to leave her married to a guy who’d rather fuck her brother. So I told my parents, my mum’s big on the church and they sent us to you…do you think you can help me?” 

“As long as you have a strong desire to change, we will do everything we can to help you,” Castiel said, and Dean looked so obviously relieved that he wished he could go to him and offer him words of reassurance and comfort. Instead he sent Dean for his parents and together they discussed treatment options.

 

~*~*~*~  
As Castiel lay in bed that night he thought of Dean. He thought of his honest desire to change, the look of hope in his eyes when Castiel agreed to take him on. He thought that he would enjoy working with Dean, that Dean would likely become one of those successes which he treasured most. 

~*~*~*~  
Dean arrived for their first session in jeans and a t-shirt. The jeans had a hole on the knee and the t-shirt was for something Castiel recognised distantly as a band but doubted he had ever heard the music for. He had a smear of grease on his cheek that he seemed unaware of and for a moment Castiel had the bizarre desire to reach over and try to wipe it away. 

Dean seemed nervous, reaching out to shake Castiel’s hand and pulling back almost immediately. Castiel had raised his eyebrow at the gesture but Dean was already focused elsewhere, sitting down in a chair and scanning the walls. 

“So, what do we do now?” Dean asked, picking at the chair arm, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile. Really, there was no need to be this nervous. 

“Well, that depends largely on you, Dean,” he said, sitting back a little. “Traditionally, we would attempt to address the issues that caused you to begin developing these urges which plague you, in the hope that awareness will help you overcome them. There are other techniques we can employ, though I find self-awareness and prayer to be the best paths and you have already made clear that you’re not a praying man.” 

“I ain’t actually a ‘talking about emotions’ kind of guy either. Isn’t there just, I don’t know, a drug I can take or something?” 

“Sadly not,” Castiel said softly. “You must understand, Dean, that there is no quick fix. It took me approximately seven months to achieve what I have, and it has taken others longer.” 

“That long?” Dean asked, looking worried. “I’m not sure…” 

“You told me you want to fight this.” 

“I do,” Dean confirmed, so sincere. “I want to fight this, I just ain’t sure I can…” 

“That is why you’ve asked for help,” Castiel said. “Nobody can achieve a change like this alone, you need support and we are here for you. But the first step is letting us help you. Talk to me, anything you say will only be between us unless, of course, you confess to anything illegal in which case I would have to inform the authorities.” 

“Yeah, couldn’t blame you for that,” Dean said, relaxing a little. “So, we need to work out what made me gay, right? How do I even start?” 

“Maybe it would be better, first, so explore what you gain from your homosexuality. Whatever it is, this will be the root of your desire. Perhaps you can tell me of your first time with a man?” 

“Hey, it’s not like that,” Dean said quickly, flushing. “I…I haven’t…you know. Not with a man! I mean, I’ve wanted to and I think about it…but I ain’t DONE anything.” 

Castiel blinked. In all his time he had never encountered someone passing through his office seeking help who had not had a single homosexual act to their name. It was not as though Dean would not have had opportunity. Had he sought them out, many men would be pleased to have him as a lover. 

“You must be very strong willed,” he said, a little awe in his voice. Dean flushed a little. 

“Yeah, well, I really don’t want to be gay. I mean, really don’t want it. I just, I’ve been with plenty of women, Cas. It’s not a problem that I can’t be with a woman if I want to, the problem is while I like ‘em and all and I see what other guys see in a nice woman but, well, it ain’t something I want for myself if you know what I mean.” 

Castiel nodded, though he himself had never been with a woman he had certainly come across people expressing Dean’s sentiment before, and he remembered Dean’s desire from their earlier meeting to just love his girlfriend as she deserved. 

“So, maybe it would be best to discuss your first homosexual feeling?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. “When did you first realise you were abnormal.” 

Dean looked thoughtful for a few minutes, leaning back in his chair and starring at Castiel’s wall, as though he would find the answer there. Finally, he turned to face Castiel looking oddly lost. 

“You know, I don’t remember. I mean, I remember when I first realised that when other guys talked about girls, that’s what I felt for guys, that’s easy. It was just into middle school and I’d always figured everyone else was like me, liking girls well enough but mostly wanting to be around guys. It wasn’t really a sexual thing then, other than wanting to get close to them. And, anyway, one of the guys I hung out with made out with his girlfriend for the first time and it left him feeling a bit poetic or something. He turned up at school the next day and he couldn’t stop talking about it, about how turned on he’d been, about how much he wanted to be around her, how it made his chest feel all tight when she smiled, how he wanted to touch her all the time, even if it was only a brush of the fingers. 

“It got me to thinking, because I’d felt all those things, but only for guys. I’d always just thought it was being friendly or something, and of course you feel more friendly about guys because you’re around them all the time, but…it wasn’t just friendly. And once I realised it, it just kept getting worse. I realised I wanted to know what it would be like kissing a boy, so I got myself a girlfriend, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never been enough, and I’ve been trying for years, Cas.” 

“I know,” Castiel said, and he did. He knew Dean was trying. Knew he had fought hard. 

“I just, it seems no matter how hot the chick I’m with it’s never what I want. I mean, I can get it up for them and the sex is fine and I like hanging out and sometimes I can tell myself that it’s enough but I know, deep down, that it will never be enough. I like them but I don’t want them, not really.” 

“And you do want men?” Castiel asked, and from the flush on Dean’s face it was obvious that he did. 

“I…I’m so bad at talking about this, Cas. I don’t even know what to tell you. Yeah, I…I think about men like that a lot. Damnit, why can’t I just be normal!” The last part was said with a sudden burst of energy, Dean flinging himself out of his chair and striding across the room to stare at Castiel’s certificate. It made Castiel’s heart ache to see him so distressed and he longed to go to him and offer comfort, a hand on his shoulder and kind words, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. 

“You can be normal,” Castiel assured him, “I will help you, together we can work through this. 

 

~*~*~*~  
By their third session, Castiel was growing used to Dean. He was no longer quite as overwhelmed by the physicality of the man, by how he moved and spoke and the long looks they would share. Dean seemed to be relaxing into the sessions too. He was becoming less aggressive, less likely to lash out. More open. It was a good sign, he was engaging with their sessions. 

“So,” Castiel said, after the niceties were out of the way and Dean was safely settled in one of the easy chairs. “I was hoping that this session we might talk about the people in your life? Some people find that the people they currently have in their lives are…not intentionally of course but, well, depriving them of affection so they turn to homosexuality as a way of finding affection.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Dean said with a shrug, but he didn’t get angry or frustrated at the suggestion which Cas had been afraid of. “I just…I mean, we’re pretty normal. It’s not like I’m from a broken home or anything. My mum and dad are together, they love each other. Sammy, my little brother, he’s awesome. And Lisa, my ex-girlfriend, I got plenty of affection from her.” 

“People don’t have to be physically distant to be emotionally distant or unavailable,” Castiel said, and he couldn’t stop his gaze moving to the photo of his own family on the wall. “Though sometimes they can be both.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, slowly, following Castiel’s gaze. “Was that what it was with you?” 

“Well, my father is a preacher,” Castiel said, trying for detachment in his tone. “He…he is a good man and he cared for us all deeply but for him the message came first. My mother supported him in every way and my brother, well, he and I never seemed to see eye to eye. He believes I can’t take a joke, I believe he can’t understand when joking isn’t appropriate.” 

“So, what, your parents divide up traits between you? You got all the serious and he got all the joker?” 

“I believe he would say that he got all the fun and I got all the misery, though I like to think that he’s wrong about that,” Castiel said with a small smile. “But, yes, to some extent I feel that my family’s emotional focus on the church deprived me of them. For a time I was angry with god before I accepted that His love and His word could make me whole. What about you, Dean? Are you emotionally close to your family?” 

“Sure I am,” Dean said with a lazy grin. “My family, well, they’re kind of awesome. I mean, my dad…I look up to the guy a lot, you know. I guess he might seem a bit distant, he’s been in and out of the army a lot on his life, he wasn’t always physically around but I always thought he was the coolest dad in the world, you know. Out there saving people. I’d have gone into the army too but he was dead against it, and I’m a good mechanic anyway. And my mom, she’s great. I mean, my dad’s pretty much allergic to talking about emotions but my mom, she’s the kind who, when I was a kid and I’d be upset about something, she’d just come into my room and stroke my hair and give me a hug. Sammy’s great too, we’re pretty close. Had a bit of an argument when he went off to college but we’re good now. When he were little it was always us against the world so, nah, I’m not lacking in affection.” 

“Maybe you were too close to your brother?” Castiel suggested, aware of how that must sound and holding himself against the anger he expected from Dean. “In an emotional sense, I mean. Maybe you came to depend on him above all others for companionship and that is why you look to men for that now?”

“Maybe,” Dean said with a sigh, rubbing his head, and Castiel allowed himself to relax. He’d expected Dean to grow angry at the suggestion. Many people did. But Dean only seemed resigned. “I mean, I’ve thought that kind of thing before. Until he announced he was going to college we were a bit…codependent. Or I was anyway. Hurt a lot, when he left.” 

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

“No, but I guess I should. It’s just, Sammy was always my responsibility. I was meant to look after him, you know. I was the one who scared the monsters out from under his bed when we were kids and dad was away, I went with him to the library on school holidays while mom was working and helped him get his first girlfriend and stuff, it just felt like a betrayal when he took of without even saying sorry or anything. I know he’s an adult and he doesn’t owe me anything, everyone tells me often enough, but I still think about him like he’s a little kid.” 

“It must be hard to let go of that kind of emotional attachment,” Castiel commented, trying to hide the hint of wishfulness in his voice. Gabriel hadn’t been a bad brother, nobody could accuse him of that, but in the same way nobody could ever claim that he was to Gabriel what Sam was to Dean. 

“Yeah, it was,” Dean admitted. “But he had to grow up, and I had to let him go. Sucked, of course, but that’s life. Sometimes you don’t get what you want. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” 

“I don’t think anyone ever gets used to it,” Castiel replied.   
~*~*~*~  
Dean sprawled across two chairs, his body slumped in one, using the back rest as a pillow, his feet on the other. Castiel was hardly as relaxed, though he had allowed himself to remove his tie and unfasten the top button his his shirt in deference to the atmosphere Dean was setting. 

He could hardly believe it was their 6th session already. Could hardly believe he had known Dean for a month and a half, had been allowed to have Dean in his life for that long. Dean was quite unlike anyone else who had ever walked into Castiel’s life before. Of course, he had been faced with tough cases in the past, but Dean seemed positively well adjusted compared to them. A little too attached to his brother but in an affectionate way, not the dark way he had seem some people form attachments in the past. And he had a strange mixture of anger and respect that he directed towards his father, but that did not seem to be a problem. 

They had talked a little about addressing symptoms, but Castiel strongly believed that not addressing the emotional reasons would not change anything, and Dean wanted so badly to have a relationship that was real. He talked, sometimes, about Lisa. The woman he wanted to love. He was always warm about her, but he spoke of her as an ideal, not as a person. 

Sometimes Castiel wondered if that wasn’t the problem in a sentence. He saw the women in his life as ideals. Lisa was the perfect girlfriend, he could never be enough for her. Mary was the perfect mother, a saint among women. Dean had hinted a few times to the accident that had scarred her but he normally avoided the topic and Castiel didn’t push. 

And that was a problem that Castiel had noticed. He didn’t push. With any other patient he would have. He’d have gone straight to the thing they didn’t want to talk about and he’d have pushed as hard as he could, but not with Dean. With Dean, he found he didn’t want to cause the other man undue stress and strain. And, after all, if he were to find the root of Dean’s problems Dean would stop coming to these sessions. 

Castiel greatly enjoyed his company. 

This session, he had allowed them to be derailed again. They had begun by looking for common themes in the men Dean was attracted to that might indicate he was using them as a replacement for someone, but Dean had quickly allowed himself to be distracted in telling a story about a guy he liked in high school who’d turned out to have impregnated the head cheerleader’s mom which somehow diverged into a story about a time Sam had accidentally died his own hair green while trying to prank Dean and had to have it shaved, and somehow Castiel had ended up sharing stories back. He didn’t like to talk about his early life, he did not have many fond memories but he found himself trying so he could see Dean laugh. He recalled a time when on a trip to preach in a nearby town Gabriel had found a stray cat they had conspired together to try and smuggle it back home in their bag and inevitably been caught. He told him how Gabriel had once tricked one of the meanest kids in school into declaring his love for an entirely uninterested girl over the tannoy after the mean kid had hurt Castiel. 

It was nice, relaxed. Dean was laughing and smiling in that open, honest way that seemed to be appearing on his face more and more as they spent more time together. Castiel found himself wondering how many other people got to see that smile. Got to see Dean so happy and lose and unguarded. 

He selfishly hoped it wasn’t too many. Though he knew he should wish for Dean to have all the joy in the world, to have a million friends, he could not help but wish that Dean would smile like that only for him. 

He tried not to dwell on that thought too much. He cared for Dean as a friend, of course, but as a counsellor it was important that he not place any one patient over the others. Even one as interesting as Dean. 

“Damn,” Dean mumbled, giving a lazy shrug that made him shoulders roll interestingly and leaning forward, displaying the muscles of his arms and the strong line of his back. “Sorry, Cas. Been talking your ear off about nothing, again. Our time’s nearly up.” 

“No Dean, I am sorry,” Cas replied, frowning. “I should be pushing you further in these sessions. I fear you are not getting as much out of them as you should.” 

Dean laughed a kind, fun laugh. Cas loved it, the sound of it. It was like music. 

“Hey, if that’s what you’re worried about then don’t be. Honestly, I’ve been enjoying these sessions more then, well, then anything else I’ve done in a while. I don’t know Cas, somehow I feel like I can talk to you. Not that I can’t talk to my family but my mum and dad have heard all my stories about Sammy so many times, and I can’t really call Lisa up right now, even if I could I wouldn’t be able to talk to her like this. I just, thanks, man. Thanks for listening to my stupid stories.” 

“Your stories aren’t stupid,” Castiel protested, glad of the desk between them that stopped him physically reaching out to Dean. “I have enjoyed them greatly, I hope you will feel able to share more of them with me.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling in a way that made him look peaceful. “Maybe I will.” 

 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel was not used to seeing his patients outside of the context of the therapy room. It wasn’t a conscious choice, it was a strange combination of his own reclusive habit and the fact that those who sought treatment did not always come from the local area, they would travel in for their sessions. 

It wasn’t unheard of for it to happen, it had happened before, mostly in church, but still Castiel was shocked to round the corner of his local grocery store and find Dean chatting happily with a pretty blond. She was a very attractive woman, that much was obvious. Tall and pretty, and she smiled and lent forward, touching Dean and laughing. 

Something inside of Castiel clenched, he didn’t want to think too much about what, but it was like a sudden anger. This woman, who was she? Surely Dean would have mentioned her? She couldn’t be Lisa, he’d seen pictures of Lisa and, besides, she and Dean were apart for now. This woman was someone else. Was she someone so special to him that he didn’t want to mention her to Castiel? But surely not. He seemed casual with her, though. Happy, laughing, smiling the way he did for Castiel. 

Castiel was a master of maintaining his emotional distance. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this, surely he should be happy for Dean. Surely the entire point of their acquaintance was to find this for Dean? Happiness with a woman who deserved him. Yet Castiel was angry, it must be anger. 

Because if it wasn’t anger it was jealousy, and it couldn’t be jealousy. 

To be jealous he would have to want Dean for himself, which he didn’t. He liked Dean, of course. Admired his easy confidence. But he was heterosexual. It was purely friendship. Of course it was. 

He took a step back, he needed to stop feeling this. He needed to stop thinking like this so he needed to stop looking at Dean right now. 

Of course, Dean chose that moment to look up and meet Castiel’s eye. He gave Castiel one of those easy smiled he seemed to have such a ready supply of and gestured him over, and Castiel found himself going though every intelligent thought was telling him to make an excuse and get the hell out of there. He could not be here, not with Dean and this woman. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, casual, reaching over and slapping Cas on the shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here, I guess you live local too?” 

“Yes,” Castiel said, stepping out from under Dean’s hand. “I should…” 

“Who’s this?” the woman interrupted. She smiled the same kind of casual, open smile that Dean had given him and Castiel found himself wishing he could smile so readily and easily. That he could stand next to Dean like that, as though there as nothing wrong. Not that there was anything wrong. 

“Sorry,” Dean said with a sheepish grin. “Jess, this is my…therapist,” Dean said with some reluctance, though he did give Castiel an embarrassed smile and a slow shrug of his shoulders. “Cas. Erm, Cas, this is Jess. She’s my brother’s girlfriend.” 

As if by magic, the acid that had been building in Castiel seemed neutralised. He was able to smile freely and shake the woman’s hand. Of course Dean would be natural and happy with her, she was almost family. And it was good for him to have people like her in his life. Caring, positive female figures. 

And that feeling, that was surely normal. He was simply concerned about Dean, probably. That Dean should be rushing into another relationship, hoping that it would heal him when surely it would not. No, it was not jealousy, just friendly concern. That was all. 

 

~*~*~*~  
“Cas, can I talk about something?” Dean is, once more, sprawled across several of Castiel’s chairs. It’s getting late, they should be wrapping up the session, but neither of them seem inclined to move. No progress, as such, had been made. Dean had told Cas about his weekend, about having Sam and Jess home and how things are better now then they were a few years ago. Cas had nodded along. He’d spoken with Gabriel at the weekend so told Dean about it. Gabriel was still content to be a general layabout and disappointment to their family. Castiel was not amused. 

“Of course,” Castiel said, giving a lazy shrug. He knew he should press more, should do more then this, but he enjoyed this. He felt guilty as he did because, after all, Dean was paying for these sessions. Still, he couldn’t help wanting to draw them out as long as he could.

“I…look, I don’t know if it’ll help with anything…and this ain’t something I talk about but, well, it seems like I should tell you. Feels like you know every other damn thing about me anyway, might as well tell you this too.” 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Castiel replied, tilting his head to look at Dean. 

“Well, you probably noticed when I came here the first time. I mean, my mum…” Dean trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He had sat up in his chair, his back straight, and his eyes refused to meet Castiel’s, focusing on the floor instead. Castiel corrected his posture too, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his desk. He had wondered if Dean’s problem would not come down to his mother, it seemed that now he would know. 

“Her scars?” he asked, and Dean shuddered a bit at the word. 

“Yeah, those,” he said, almost a whisper. “I was four when it happened. My mum and dad, they were kind of going through a rough patch. People do, right? It wasn’t a big deal. Sammy was only tiny, 6 months old. I remember…I got woke up by my mum screaming, went out of my bedroom and Sammy’s door was wide open and everything was on fire. I screamed too, I guess, then my dad was coming running up the stairs. My mum, she was in the nursery with Sam. She turned to look at me and just as she did, her damn dress caught fire. Just…just went up like nothing I’d seen before. You’d think she’d been doused in petrol.” 

Dean was very quiet as he told the story. He held his shoulders tightly and stared ahead of himself into the middle distance, his hands clenched. Castiel wanted to badly to go to him. To place an arm around his shoulder and ease the hurt he saw there. 

“My dad ran straight in. Grabbed Sam and told me to go outside with him. Said I had to take care of him, think I’ve been doing that every damn day since. A neighbour called 911 and a fire engine turned up and an ambulance, just as dad was carrying mom out. I remember thinking it would be cool to ride in one of them, then feeling so damn guilty about it because I shouldn’t have had space in my head for anything but being afraid for mom.” 

“That’s actually quite normal,” Cas said softly, glad to have something to contribute. “When faced with trauma it’s easier to focus on things like that then accept what is happening to and around you.” 

“You might be right about that,” Dean said, his lips pressed tightly together. “My dad managed to put the flames on mom out, but not fast enough. The fire brigade said it was an electrical fire. We were lucky to escape at all, apparently. Mom was in hospital for ages, months. It felt like a lifetime at that age. My dad was a complete mess. She’s been sleeping in Sammy’s room because they were arguing. He didn’t go to her until he heard my scream to because they were arguing. We lived out of motels until she came back. I took care of Sammy, my dad did what he could. I’m not…I’m not complaining. It could have been a lot worse. She got better, we rented a house, my dad got better. It just…it just changed everything, you know. Mom and dad didn’t fight any more and I could hardly complain about that but I knew it was because dad blamed himself. And mom, she seems to just take everything with a smile. She was so weak for so long, we’re all so afraid to upset her…” 

He fell silent, his hands clenching at the seat of the chair, and Castiel felt his heart clench with them. What would he not give to take this pain away from Dean. Dean who was good and righteous and who cared so much. 

“Sorry,” Dean said after a few moments of silence, making a visible effort to relax. “I guess I just made it awkward.” 

“You did not,” Castiel replied, calmly. “I just wished to give you a second to gather yourself, I didn’t want to crowd you.” 

“Thanks,” Dean said, and there was something sincere in his tone which made Castiel smile. 

“Thank you, Dean, for sharing this with me,” Castiel said, and this time he did allow himself to stand, taking measured steps around the desk. Dean was still tense, still wound tight in his memories, and Castiel allowed himself the indulgence of laying a single hand on Dean’s shoulder in support. 

“Hey, no problem,” Dean said. He looked up at Castiel and smiled, then stood quickly and before Castiel knew what was happening he was being pulled forward into a hug. Dean’s arms came around his shoulders, pulling him close. His chin came to rest on Dean’s shoulder and Dean held him tightly, fiercely, as though afraid that at any second Castiel might disappear or run away. 

And it was perfect. Dean was solid, and warm, and just a little taller then him. Castiel knew he could lose himself in arms like this. In an embrace like this. In this embrace. That he wanted to. He wanted Dean’s arms around him, strong and sure and kind. He wanted to hide here, away from the world, and not have to worry about what god or his family would see. 

He wanted more, too. He wanted things he hadn’t let himself think about in so long. Desires he thought long since quelled rushed through him and now he began to think of them it was a floodgate and his pathetic defence of friendship was swept away in a whirl of passion and desire and all the things he wanted to do to Dean, for Dean to do for him. From a mundane kiss to things that he had viewed only on pornography. From the lustful urges of his body to the deep desire to love and to be loved in return, for lazy mornings and passionate nights. For familiarity and care. 

Dean pulled back, it had only been a few seconds and Castiel felt as though Dean had ever so gently taking him by the shoulders and pulled his entire world off-centre. Ruined everything he had believe in. 

“See you next week?” Dean asked, gathering his things, and Castiel could only nod. 

When Dean was gone, Castiel crossed to the wall and took his certificate down. He held it in his hands, tracing the writing on it, feeling the lie. Castiel was a homosexual, no matter what any certificate said. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel was not sure, on later, reflection, how he got home. Logically, he did it the same way he did every day. He left his office, took the bus, walked from the bus stop to his house, unlocked his own front door. He doesn’t remember any of this. He also, apparently, made the journey with his framed certificate clutched in his hand. 

His first clear recollection, after that horrible moment when he had realised he had grown weak, allowed himself to be blind to the danger Dean posed to him until it was too late, was standing in his kitchen with the vague awareness that he should do something, make a drink or something, but he was unable to process how to use the kettle. He stared at it for some time, as thought staring would cause it to give up it’s many secrets, and the frame slipped from his hand. 

He could not say, after apparently holding it tightly for so long, what caused it to drop at that moment. It was as though he wasn’t in control of his limbs, wasn’t in control of anything. His entire world was tilting dangerously to the side and he didn’t know what to do. 

The frame smashed when it hit the floor. It shouldn’t have, it wasn’t thrown, but it did. It sprayed glass around and the sight of his own blood was enough to finally shock Castiel fully out of his daydream and send him up the stairs, walking carefully so as not to spread the blood, in search of the first aid kit he kept in the bathroom. 

When he went to apply the bandages he realised that his hands were shaking, and he found himself looking at them, as though in their erratic movement he could find some reason for what was happening here. They weren’t giving up their secrets, though. 

He felt almost betrayed, lost. Almost as though the time he’d spent first receiving treatment then counselling others had been a lie. What if it had? What if all the people he thought he’d helped over the years, well, what if he hadn’t helped them at all? What if he’d just talked them into self-denial and sham marriages? What if they grew to hate him for that? 

But, no, it couldn’t be. It had been true, he had been cured. He hadn’t thought about a man in a sexual sense in so long, not until Dean was right in front of him. And Dean wasn’t even his type. Dean was strong where he preferred wiry, coarse where he had always been attracted to polished. Dean was not his type, there was no way he could have seen the coming. 

Only now it was here. 

He was attracted to Dean Winchester. There was on use denying that now, and he had a horrible suspicion that he was understating things. That he wasn’t simply physically attracted to Dean. Of course, Dean was physically attractive. Castiel could almost feel the man’s arms around him still, feel the way he could lose himself in those arms. He imagined Dean would be a very focused lover. It was not simply that, though. He liked Dean, liked him as a person. He wanted Dean not only to hold him but to talk to him. To share himself and to allow Castiel to share his stories in return. He just…he just wanted Dean. 

This would never work. 

He should have been more vigilant. This was sent to test him, obviously. To test his reserve, his belief in god. He could overcome this, could be right again. He just needed to pray and he needed to remove Dean from his life. 

That would be the hard part, for it felt scarily as though his life pivoted on the short time he had spent with Dean. But he must do it. Maybe he had slipped, but he would not fall. He would catch this and make it right. 

 

~*~*~*~  
By morning, Castiel felt more in control. He had been given an obstacle, he would overcome. He could do this, could be normal. 

He dressed carefully, conscious now that he needed to appear professional. There were things he must do today. He could not continue to see Dean, that much was clear. The other man was slowly destroying everything Castiel had chosen to be, everything he had chosen to place his faith in. He could no allow that. So today he must convince another counsellor to take Dean’s case, preferably without revealing his true reasons. He would approach Anna. Anna was probably better equip to help Dean anyway. A pretty young woman, maybe he would grow attracted to her. 

Castiel tried to stop the bile that rose in his throat at that thought. He did not want Dean to be more comfortable with Anna, but the was his problem entirely. He must purge this from his life. He would have to convince Anna to take Dean and, also, Dean to see Anna. 

He pondered the way to go about this on the bus to work, and by the time he was sat behind his desk again he had a plan of action. It was simple really, and close enough to the truth to not draw any suspicion. Dean was not making progress with his methods, Anna practised a different kind of therapy, more based on aversion then anything Castiel preferred. He would simply claim that Dean would benefit from Anna’s from of therapy. Dean could no disagree, he wanted to be well. Anna would be flattered and Castiel would have the peace he needed to reconstruct his tattered self-control. 

And if the plus side of this would be that he wouldn’t have to banish Dean completely, that Dean might still choose to stop by on his way to Anna’s office and chat with Castiel, well, he wasn’t thinking about that. 

He made the call to Dean first, but Dean did not answer so Castiel left a message on his answering machine. He tried to keep it short and to the point, not to let any of his inner turmoil spill over into his words. He knew Dean would probably call back for clarification, but he could handle that. 

The next step was Anna. Anna was his favourite of all his colleagues, he knew Dean would be well looked after with her. It was definitely better then leaving him with someone like Zachariah who, well, Castiel did not like to speak unkindly of his colleagues but he sometimes doubted that Zachariah had the best interests of those he cared for at heart. Anna’s methods did not agree with Castiel’s, but she was a good person. 

He visited her in person, and she seemed happy to see him. She also seemed happy to take Dean as a patient, smiling and nodding when Castiel explained the road-block they had reached, agreeing with her that her methods might be more help, and he managed to remain neutral and do what he must do thought everything in him was screaming that Anna would not be what was best for Dean. That his problem was no behaviour, he could act heterosexual, his problem was that he did not feel it. But he could not, he needed to remove Dean from his life. 

After meeting with Anna he walked back across the centre to his desk. Dolores was sat at reception, feminine and smiling and receptive to him. He stopped to talk to her, which seemed to please her greatly. Today her nails were painted a light purple, her hair was artificially curled. He looked at her and he knew, now, that while he could see how things in her may be attractive, he personally was not attracted to her. 

But he should be. He wanted to be. 

That was why he asked her out. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Dolores had obviously made an effort for the date. Her shirt was cut low in a way that Castiel was sure was designed to draw him to her, to turn him on. Castiel would never understand the appeal of breasts. He thought it was slightly indecent, how she exposed them to him like that with no thought for who else might be around. Even if he were interesting in her, he would dislike how pushy she was. Not the easy, almost unconscious sensuality that Dean had shows. That attractive stance, the way he smiled. No effort needed. 

The date was coming to an end by now, the wine was dwindling in their glasses, a luxury that Castiel did not often allow himself and, he must admit, he was feeling the worse for now. The desert, which had been mediocre (though most desert was mediocre compared to the pastry that his brother produced) was gone from their plates and Dolores was leaning forward, touching his arm. 

They had talked, there had not been the awkward, long periods of silence that Castiel had expected. In fact, it had been pleasant, almost. Though shallow. She had told him at length about a movie she’d enjoyed, and an anecdote from college involving an ex-boyfriend and too much alcohol, though he had been confused by her recalling a past boyfriend on a first date. He would never have spoken of Balthazar on a first date with someone else. Indeed, if he were on a first date with Dean, Balthazar would be the furthest thing from his mind. 

Dolores lent over again, wrapping her hand around his wrist and smiling, and he let it sit, even returned her smile. 

“Hey,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “Do you want to…go somewhere quieter, maybe? Maybe like my place?” 

“We should pay,” Castiel replied, and Dolores seemed to take that as an encouragement, blushing and grinning. Castiel felt something tighten in himself in apprehension, but this was all a part of being heterosexual. He would go home with Dolores and he would prove to himself that he could. 

He called the waiter, she gathered her purse and sauntered off to the bathroom. 

Castiel had never been less turned on in his life. All he felt, was a vague sense of nausea. He had to do this, though. It would be proof, proof that at least something had worked. Maybe all the feelings he had worked so hard to eliminate were just right there under the surface, but it didn’t matter. He could function as a heterosexual, surely that was just as important. It would be enough for him, anyway. 

He paid the bill and left a handsome tip, then moved to the door to wait for Dolores. The nighttime air helped calm him a little. It seemed less immediate, less frightening. It was a new experience, that was all. The reason his stomach was twisted in knots, it was just that he’d never tried this before. Maybe, when he tried it, he would enjoy it. Maybe this was what he needed all along. His counsellor, a man named Michael, had tried to encourage him this way. Tried to tell him that it was only be truly acting on his new heterosexuality that he would consolidate it. Now, Castiel would take that advice. 

Dolores had apparently gone to the bathroom to ‘freshen up’. She emerged with her lipstick refreshed, a pale shade of pink which made her look unreal. She smelled heavily of perfume. Something that seemed to be trying to smell floral but with a distinct chemical undertone. She grinned when she saw him, and he noticed how perfect her teeth were. So white and straight, almost unreal. 

She lent against his arm and sighed, laying her hand against his bicep. He fought the urge to push her away, to run. He could do this. 

“We could have split the bill, you know,” she mumbled, leaning on. Her breast pressed against his arm. He’d never been this close to a woman, had a woman try this with him. He normally turned them down before this, he’d never encouraged them before. This was what Michael meant about giving himself a chance, he was sure. Giving heterosexuality a chance.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I didn’t mind paying. Should we get a cab?” 

“We can walk,” Dolores said, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was really true for her in the shoes she was wearing, dainty heels that looked as thought they might slip out from under her at any second and cause her to turn her ankle. 

“If you like,” was his only reply, and she set of, not relinquishing her hold on his arm. He allowed himself to be lead, letting her take control of their direction. After a hundred meters or so she changed the position of her arm, bringing it down to lace their fingers together. 

He made a conscious effort not to compare Dolores’ touches to those of Dean. That would not have been fair to anyone. 

“I can’t believe it’s so cold this early in the year,” Dolores said, leaning in closer. Castiel bit back a comment about how she would not be so cold if she were to wear warmer clothing. 

“It does seem to be unsesonably cold,” he offered instead. “Would you like my jacket?” 

“Oh, no,” dolores giggled, clutching at his hand. “I’m fine. I’m just thinking, though, that winter’ll be here before we even know it. I should think about getting out my winter wardrobe.” 

“That might be a good idea,” Castiel agreed, thankful for the distraction that the conversation provided. It was easy to make idle small talk. The kind they had made all night. Words which meant nothing, thoughts which meant nothing. He could do this. Of course he could. He could go home with her and not compare her to Dean. Her looks, her touches, her conversation. He could sleep with her and confirm his heterosexuality and then everything would be fixed and he could return to his normal life. 

Couldn’t he? 

He hoped so. He was praying so, had been praying so ever since he had asked her. He needed this, needed to be able to do this. Surely, there must be something in him that could do this. Dean had done it for years, taken women out, made love to them. There was no physical reason he could not, he knew the mechanics, after all. 

He would manage. Maybe that kind of heterosexuality was not enough for Dean but it would be enough for Castiel, for now. 

It had to be, he had to prove this. 

He stopped Dolores. She had been in the middle of an anecdote about a lost umbrella when he stopped them turning her to face him. He could do this, would do this. Right now. 

He lent forward, and she lent to meet him half way, bringing her arms up to wind around his neck. There was no grace in their kiss, no gentle meeting of mouths. He pushed all the passion he could into the encounter. Put everything he had into it. She kissed him back equally. He tasted her lipstick, so recently applied. He slid his tongue into her mouth and took hers into his. It was fine, perfectly fine. Nothing at all mechanically different from kissing a man. Exactly the same, really. If you’d not told him he wouldn’t know, other then for the soft press of Dolores’ breasts against him as she pulled herself closer. 

But, at the same time, thought nothing was wrong, everything was wrong. There was no desire, no spark within him for this woman. He kissed her, but he felt no desire to. He deepened the kiss when she demanded it but only as she pulled him in. He tried, but his mind could not help but wander. Could not help but compare this one kiss to the hug Dean had given him. The embrace that had made his body sing after so long, made him feel as though the nerves he had closed down when he had walked away from Balthazar and from homosexuality had come back to life. 

He felt a stirring them, a surge of passion which made his grip Dolores tighter, but he knew it was only thinking of Dean that brought that to him. 

So that was it, he would be able to sleep with Dolores if he imagined he was sleeping with Dean. 

He would not do that.

He broke the kiss quickly, stepping back as Dolores tried to follow, pushing her gently to separate them. 

“We’re nearly at mine,” she said, breathless, reaching for his hand. He withdrew it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he was. He wished he could go with her, give her what she desired. Take for himself what he thought he needed. But that would not be fair to either of them. “I…I can not do this. I’m so sorry.” 

And with that he turned and ran. 

 

~*~*~*~  
With his own front door between himself and the rest of the world, Castiel took time to evaluate. 

1\. He was in deep with Dean Winchester. He needed to keep away from him at all costs.   
2\. He could not function as a heterosexual, it was doubtable at this point if he ever had been able to function as a heterosexual.  
3\. Everything from the last few years had been a carefully constructed lie to prevent him realising point 2.   
4\. He could no longer do his job. 

Point four, oddly, upset him the most. His work meant everything to him, in a very literal way. It was more then a job, it was a mission. A life goal. All he’d ever wanted was to help people, and he thought he’d finally discovered something that only he could do that would help people who had struggled like him. 

He couldn’t get the thing out of his mind. He thought back to all the men and women who had passed through his office, all his success stories. Were all their cures as much of a lie as his own, or had he actually done a little good, at least, for at least a small number of those people? He hoped so, he prayed so. 

He drafted a frank and personal e-mail to Zachariah, and then deleted it. It hurt him to see it, how frank it was. How he hurt, how he wished there was any other option for him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to be that vulnerable before Zachariah. He needed at least an air of professionalism. 

The e-mail he sent in the end was short and polite. He explained that he was having a personal crisis and that he needed time and space. He explained that it would not be fair to his patients for him to counsel them when his own life had problems like this, that he needed a little time. He was willing to take it as unpaid leave, though he had holiday days set aside. 

Once the e-mail was gone, he felt a burden lift from his shoulders. For now, at least, he would do no harm to others. Harm to himself, possibly, but not other. Now all that was left to do was focus on himself, discover how he had made progress before, identify the cause of this setback (after all, it was not like Dean was the first attractive man to sit across his desk from him and bare their soul). He needed to wipe it all clean and start again. But, for now, he was finally able to sleep. 

 

~*~*~*~  
The next morning, Castiel found himself at a loss. He knew he couldn’t go to the centre, that he could no longer by of any use there. He spent the morning reading through the pamphlets and such he had read when he had first entered therapy, and composing a long-winded e-mail to Michael asking for additional guidance, but none of that felt right. After all, this had failed him once. He had made peace with his absent father, with the lack of love his family had give him and how that had impacted him, and yet he was still here with all these unnecessary feelings for a man. 

There had to be something different this time. He had to try something else, as clearly this wasn’t working any more. 

It didn’t take long for his thoughts to turn to prayer. After all, prayer had carried him through so many of life’s hardships. Maybe that was where he was going wrong. After all, the lord created him and the Lord had given him these trials, maybe it was time he tried to put it right through the lord. 

His local church was small and familiar. He attended services here every week, and would often stop in during the evening to pray. He knew the parson well and that he would be accepted at all hours, so he put on his trench coat and headed down there. 

Stepping in to the church was like coming home. It was peaceful there, quiet and calm. Here, he realised, he would finally find salvation. 

 

~*~*~*~  
It was three hours before the parson approached him, and he was surprised it had taken that long. The man was young for the post, though still a little older then Castiel. He had a severe expression but a kind personality and Castiel had been glad to grow to know him as a friend over the years. He wasn’t surprised, therefore, when the man eventually drifted over to kneel next to him in prayer. 

“Castiel,” he said eventually, and Cas nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

“No, I just need to pray,” Castiel replied. He knew this was the path, prayer. He knew, now, that before he simply had no prayed hard enough. Had not worked hard enough for this forgiveness. Now, he would pray. He would beg the lord for forgiveness, for a cure. Would pray until all thought of Dean and his lips and his love fled from Castiel’s mind and he was left only with the fullness of God’s love. 

“Are you sure?” The parson asked, “You’ve been praying for hours now. I know I don’t run a formal confession here but if you need to talk, you should know I’m willing to listen.” 

“Thank you but no,” Castiel replied, firmly. “It’s not your forgiveness I need. I’m sure that god will forgive me, I need only pray.” 

He returned to his prayer. After a while, he became aware of the parson leaving. 

 

~*~*~*~  
After a while, the moments and hours began to blur. He lost track, lost himself entirely to prayer, to the desperate hope that god might see fit to give him a sign. 

 

~*~*~*~  
He did not know how long he had been praying, but he knew it was a long time. Long enough that he stomach was cramping and his eyelids were heavy. Long enough that the pastor had asked him to leave, in the nicest was possible. Castiel had been aware of it, but he had not been able to make his body respond, lost as he was in prayer. 

If he could only endure this, could only endure the physical pain, then surely god would grant him this. Would take these feeling from him, give him some sign that his prayer had been heard and that now he was cured. 

He became aware of the voices only because his name was mentioned. They were probably voices of concern, he knew what he was doing here was no normal or healthy, but he could not leave until his prayers were answered. Would not leave. 

The words began to penetrate his prayers, though. Concern, and a familiar voice. The familiar voice saying his name. Not the pastor saying Castiel in that strange tone, as though Castiel was a new suffering visited on him personally, but another voice. A voice he held dear above all others. Soft and understanding, not judging as the pastor was. 

Dean was here. 

Why was Dean here? Why was this new torment sent on him, when all he wanted was peace? How did the Lord expect him to resist now? How could he test him so?

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, and the other man was close next to him, kneeling in his pew, leaning gently on his shoulder, and Castiel felt the prayer spiral away from him. The world losing themselves as Dean reached over, wrapping his hands around Castiel’s, holding them close. “Talk to me, man. You just disappeared, everyone’s worried sick.” 

“I need to pray,” Castiel said, and his voice sounded strange. Strained from his whispered prayer. 

“I see that,” Dean said, and he shifted position, bringing Castiel closer to his own body, and Castiel let himself be moved. “Want to tell me why? I mean, as far as I can tell you’ve never taken up prayer and quit everything else in the world before, what’s so important right now?” 

A hand under his elbow, an arm around his back and Dean is moving him, lifting him from his knees and guiding him back to sit on the pew. Sitting next to him, body so warm and close. Castiel lets his eyes fall open, all possibility of prayer now gone. If he will be damned for this this it is too late for him now. 

“Dean,” he whispers, and Dean smiled at him, a reserved smile that Castiel knows is not genuine, but does not let him go. 

“Come on, man, you owe me an explanation. First I get some message that you don’t want to counsel me any more, then when I stop by the office to see why they tell me you’ve taken a leave of absence. Your house was empty and nobody knew where you were. It’s a good job I know you or I’d have never thought to look here so, yeah, you kind of own me an explanation. Come on, what’s going on here?” 

“You should not have looked for me,” Castiel said, allowing himself to relax further against Dean. It was almost worth being damned for, being held like this. “I can no longer help you.” 

“I get that you think that,” Dean replied, “But why?” 

“Everything had been a lie,” Castiel replied. “How can I help you be heterosexual when I can not even be that myself. I thought that I could, thought that I was strong, that I had overcome, but it is a lie.” 

“So, what, you’re telling me you’re still gay?” Dean said, tightening his arm, and if Castiel had tears he would have shed them then, for the betrayal of it. 

“Yes,” he replied instead. He made an effort to move then, to slide away before Dean could begin to draw conclusions, only to find himself held firmly in place. 

“Why did you realise this now?” Dean asked, a quiver his his voice that was probably fear, probably revulsion. Well, he deserved to know the truth now. Deserved to know what Castiel had become, how low he had sunk. Then he would leave, would see that Castiel had been right all along. 

“You,” he said, simply. “I…have developed feelings for you that are not professional. That is why I can not see you any more, why I must pray and repent. I am not a worthy person. I am sorry.” 

Castiel had expected to be pushed away, to be rejected. It would hurt, to be scorned in such a way when revealing his feelings, but a part of him was looking forward to it. Looking forward to how he could take the rejection and use it as a board to help him, to help him push forward and finally defeat these demons. 

Dean did not push him away. Dean did not move, in fact, as though taking time to think things over, to process them. Castiel knew now would be the time to remove himself. Dean was distracted, he could move away, break Dean’s hold on him and do what he had to do. He could run, go somewhere a million miles away, pretend he never heard the name Dean Winchester. 

He could not, though. Could not deny himself a few more moments of this comfort, of this love. It may be false, but Dean’s arm around him felt reassuring, comforting. 

Finally Dean moved, but instead of the rejection he had expected he felt himself pulled closer. Found himself held close, tight to the other man’s chest. 

“You idiot,” Dean hissed, squeezing him. “I…me too, ok. Me too. Just. Damnit, Cas. Why couldn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to do all this on your own, this isn’t just your problem. We can fix this together, you and me.” 

Castiel nodded. Parts of him were screaming with joy, parts of him sobbing in fear. This made everything a hundred times better and worse and he had no idea how he was going to face this knowing that Dean wanted him and he wanted Dean but, on the other hand, he wasn’t alone in this any more. He and Dean were going to fight this battle together. Surely, together, they could overcome? 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel let Dean take him from the church, walk home with him, cook a meal for him. He wasn’t sure he would have managed it alone, and he needed it too badly to think about the implications of it. 

He woke the next morning feeling more himself, and the full implications of what he had done presented themselves to him. He had told Dean his feelings, and had them returned. He had let Dean hold him, let Dean bring him home and care for him when he should have been running as fast he he could in the opposite direction. Dean had talked about working together, about overcoming this together, but they could not. They would only weaken each other. He must make Dean see that. 

Dean had, apparently, not left his house. Castiel came downstairs to find the man sat on his couch, watching some medical drama on his TV. With a silent prayer for strength, Castiel approached him. 

“Hello Dean,” he said, and Dean looked up at him and smiled. 

“Hey, Cas. Want me to get you some breakfast?” 

“No,” Castiel said firmly, sitting down on the chair rather then taking the couch seat next to Dean. “You must leave, Dean?” 

“Nah, not happening, actually,” Dean replied, and Castiel blinked. He hadn’t expected an outright refusal like that. 

“Dean, this can not work…” 

“No, see, I’ve been thinking,” Dean said, sitting forward. “This is my problem entirely. I meet guys like you or…ok…not normally quite like you because you’re a bit of a geek and not my normal type and, anyway, I meet a guy and I get these feelings and I don’t know how to just be buddies with them any more and it gets weird, right. So I have to stop talking to them. And it feels…more…then anything I have with my girlfriends. So, I figure, what I really need to do now, to be cured, is figure out how to be your friend.” 

Castiel blinked. He had never really thought of it like that before. Never thought of trying to re-set his feelings, forcing them back from attraction to simple friendship. 

“How would we achieve this?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. Dean grinned. 

“Well, that’s pretty simple. See, I treat you like I would my guy friends. We can hang out, go out drinking, until my stupid brain gets the right idea and realises it’s not that kind of thing.” 

“You thing that’ll work?” 

“Maybe?” Dean said with a shrug. “And, seriously, there’s nobody else I can try this with. I mean, with any other guy I wouldn’t want to be near them right now in case, you know, I let something slip about my feelings,” Dean scrunched up his face as he said that, and something fond unfolded in Castiel. “I don’t have to worry about if with you, ‘cause you know. And, look, it might help you too. You’ve got that entire ‘don’t know how to have normal relationships with guys because my dad didn’t love me’ thing going on, right?” 

“I’m not sure I’d summarise it in those terms,” Castiel said, roughly, “But the general premise is not wrong.” 

“Well, I’ll teach you how to have guy friends. It’ll be perfect. We can just be two guys who hang out, this is going to work!” 

“If it’s what you want,” Castiel replied. He could see already a million ways in which this could go wrong but he could not bring himself to care. And maybe Dean was right, maybe this would fix them both. Nothing had yet, surely this was worth a try. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel had never had many male friends, that much was an indisputable fact. He’d never had many friends in general, but male friends specifically seemed to be few and far between in his life. In high school, when the other boys had been forming the kind of friendships that lasted a lifetime and were learning those social skills, he had been reading. He’d spent a great deal of his life with his nose in a book. 

He’d only become aware of the lack at about the same time he became aware that he’d like to spend more time with men in a way that was less then innocent. And none of them were real friends. There was flirting, of a kind, then a tumble in to bed. The closest he’d come was Balthazar, who had seemed to accept all the strange pointy bits of Castiel’s personality and manoeuvre around them, or at least tactfully ignore them. 

He did, however, have idea about what male friends should be. He’d imagined a kind of gruff friendship based mostly on posturing, hence why he had tried to avoid that kind of friendship for so long. 

He wasn’t at all surprised with the activity Dean selected for their first adventure in normal guy friendship, a bar. Dean had phoned him two days after they’d agreed to try this path and invited him out and Castiel had been quick to say yes. He didn’t dare return to work yet, and he missed it, so at least part of his speed in accepting the invitation had been his desire to deal with these feelings as soon as he possibly could so he could return to work. However, a larger part had been the simple desire to see Dean. 

It wasn’t as though he’d never been to a bar before, though it wasn’t the kind of thing he normally did. He disliked the atmosphere, but if this was what normal male friends did with each other then this was what he would do with Dean. 

He’d spent the hours between receiving Dean’s call and going out trying not to worry, but he really had little idea how to interact in situations like this. Balthazar had dragged him out regularly but always to some trendy wine bar or something, never to the kind of bar he imagined Dean frequented. And it was different going to a place as someone’s boyfriend and going as a friend. He wouldn’t be able to hide behind Dean like he did behind Balthazar. 

He genuinely wished he was a little better at social situations, but the kind of people skills needed in a bar were not the ones usually called for in counselling. 

Dean picked him up at the local supermarket where they’d run in to each other. Castiel had been ten minutes early, not wanting to make a bad impression, though logically he knew any impression Dean was going to have of him would already be long formed. 

Dean arrived five minutes early, and looked surprised to find Castiel there already. They stood for a few seconds looking at each other in awkward silence, then Dean cracked a smile that Castiel couldn’t help but return and nudged his elbow and it was suddenly somehow natural. Dean launched in to a story about his brother and something he’d phoned home from college to tell them about, and Castiel let himself be carried along by the easy familiarity of it. After all, he’d spent weeks having conversations like this with Dean, it was easy to fall into their usual pattern. 

The bar Dean led them to was nicer then Castiel would have expected. It wasn’t as smoky as he had thought it would be, though it did seem a little rougher then something he would pick for himself. For a moment, he suspected that Dean might have picked a place he didn’t normally to go take Castiel too, but that was quickly dismissed when the bartender greeted them by name. 

“Dude,” Dean said, turning back to Castiel with their drinks. “You’re staring around like you’ve never been in a bar before.” 

“Never one quite like this,” Castiel said, “Or, at least, not for leisure. My upbringing was very religious. My father took me in to bars like this a few times before it became clear I would not follow him in spreading god’s word, but only to preach. The few times I have been to bars for pleasure they were not…like this.” 

“Something wrong with this?” Dean asked, his posture defensives, and Castiel smiled. He liked his Dean protected the things that were important to him. 

“No, nothing at all,” Castiel replied, smiling. “In fact, I think I like it. I don’t go out myself, the other places I have been were all chosen by other people and, in honestly, I felt a little uncomfortable there.” 

Dean relaxed, then smiled, reaching out to touch Cas’ arm gently. Castiel suspected that Dean did not touch his other male friends so softly but he did not object. 

“So, if you’ve never been in a bar like this before, does that mean you’ve never played pool?” 

“I do believe there are other venues to play pool,” Castiel said with a smile, “but you would be right to assume I’d never played.” 

“Great,” Dean said, with a grin that should be been a warning sign for future embarrassment to Castiel, “come on, let’s teach you.” 

Over the next hour Castiel learnt a lot about pool. He also learnt that teaching pool involved a great deal of casual touching. A hand on his arm to correct his stance. A brush of a hand against his hip to move him down the table and, twice, Dean stepping up flush against his back and putting his arms around him, physically positioning him in a way that was better. 

Castiel sincerely doubted that Dean would do that for any other male friend, press himself against their backs in such a way, but he would not complain. They were trying and, well, if it took them a short while to get things right then at least it might provide him with some sensations and memories he could treasure until he was cured. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Four days after the pool game, Dean phoned him again. This time he was talking enthusiastically about a movie he wanted to see in the cinema. It didn’t take long for Castiel to work out that this was going to be the kind of movie that involved flaming cars falling from buildings and many gratuitous explosions. A completely different kind of movie to the quiet, introspective pieces that Castiel would pick out for himself. He found himself agreeing to go along with Dean to see it. 

They met outside the cinema this time, and there was no repeat of the moment of awkwardness that had begun their first outing. This time Dean simply grinned and launched into a monologue about how this film was likely to be superior to all other films ever. 

The film was not superior to all other films ever. It was mediocre, but enjoyable enough if one did not consider the thing for too long or too deeply. They sat towards the back, though the theatre was almost empty. Dean lent against him, a warm presence that demanded much more of Castiel’s attention then the movie could. Occasionally, Dean would lean closer to whisper some point and Castiel would feel the ghost of his breath against his cheek. They shared a popcorn and occasionally their hands would touch as they both reached for a piece at the same time. 

But, seeing an action movie together was something guy friend did. It wasn’t something to worry about. Having Dean this close made Castiel hyper aware of him, but he needed to learn to be this close to be a man, to Dean, and control himself. To not reach over and take Dean’s hand. To not turn around and kiss him to see how the other man would react. 

After the movie they went to a diner and ate burgers while Dean dissected the minutia of the action scenes and Castiel managed to hold himself back from pointing out the major plot holes. 

 

~*~*~*~  
“Trust me,” Dean said, a hand warm on Castiel’s shoulder, “You’re going to like this girl.” 

“I do not believe I will,” Castiel said, slowly. He wondered where Dean had missed Castiel’s failure to defeat his own homosexuality. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried with women, he’d taken Dolores out after all, how would this be any different? 

“Look, you won’t know until you try,” Dean replied, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “And, look, this is why guy friends do for each other. My guy friends have done this for me a million times. Set me up with an appropriate girl, let me spend some time with them. It’s the least I can do for you. After all, isn’t that kind of the point of all this?” 

“It is,” Castiel confirmed, but they did not mean he had to like it. He did not want to go out on a date with some woman Dean had selected for him, though no doubt she would be lovely. He did not want to spend time with a different person when he’d thought he would be spending the evening with Dean. He’d been looking forward to more of Dean’s stories, more of Dean’s smiles. 

Maybe Dean had a point. They were meant to be friends and by now it was becoming clear that Castiel was failing at that. They weren’t friends, not when Castiel kept thinking about it like this.

“Besides,” Dean said, releasing Castiel’s shoulder as they approached the door to the bar. “It’s not like you’re building up her expectation or anything, you just need to chat to her for a while, see if you like what she likes, ok?” 

“I will try,” Castiel conceded, allowing himself to be lead into the bar. It was the kind of place Castiel had imagined they might end up when they first started this friendship. It was dark, and give the impression of being generally unclean. Not the kind of place someone would want to spend a great deal of time. It was also much more crowded then the last bar had been. He didn’t like it. 

Dean steered him straight for the bar. As they moved, Castiel took his time looking over the women at the bar, but they did not appeal to him. He could see why they might to other men. Could see why, before Dean had come in to his life, he might have thought of them as attractive, might have convinced himself that in different conditions he’d have been attracted to them, but now he knew the truth. He did not, could not, find them attractive. He wanted…well, that was irrelevant. 

But Dean asked, so he would try. 

Dean bought them both beers and Castiel was glad when he moved them away from the bar again, to some booths in a quieter corner where two women were sat close together. Castiel was pleased to note that they didn’t seem as dressed up as the women as the bar, he hoped that it meant they hadn’t invested as much in this. 

“Hey,” Dean said, flopping down into the booth and tugging Castiel’s arm so he’d slide in next to him. “Cas, this is Lisa,” he said, gesturing across as the first woman, who seemed pleasant and Castiel knew was quite beautiful, “My ex, and Sally, her friend.” 

“It is nice to meet you,” Castiel replied, but something in his expression must have given him away because Lisa reached over the table and swatted Dean on the side of the head. 

“You didn’t tell him I was going to be here, did you?” she said, and Dean winced. 

“What, it’s not like it’s a big deal,” he replied. “You’re my friend, he’s my friend…” Lisa just rolled her eyes as though Dean was being intentionally stupid. Honestly, Castiel hadn’t known that Dean still considered Lisa a friend. Was he, perhaps, trying to get back with her? Was this meant to be a double date, where he would distract the friend and Dean could go with Lisa?

Lisa smiled at him and reached over to shake his hand, and Castiel obliged her. She grinned at him, then immediately launched into an embarrassing story about Dean, much to the other man’s protests. 

In the end, whatever Dean might have planned was irrelevant, Lisa dominated the conversation, sharing anecdotes and opinions with Dean, while he and Sally only commented infrequently, but it was nice. There was a kind of well-intentioned banter between them that Castiel found it hard to establish with his own friends. He let himself, for a time, enjoy the flow of conversation around him. 

He also liked how Dean would frequently check in with him, bumping a shoulder or nudging him or leaning close to whisper something in his ear. 

It was only later, walking home, that Dean looked at him and a sudden expression of panic crossed his face. 

“Shit!” he said, turning white, “I was meant to help set you up with Sally, wasn’t I? And me and Lisa just took over the entire conversation.” 

Castiel laughed, a small thing but Dean looked proud to have won it. 

“It’s ok,” he said, not wanting to discourage Dean by telling him how much he had dreaded being set up with this girl, how much he had enjoyed the evening they’d had. “I had a good time. Lisa is a good woman.” 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “See why I couldn’t marry her now? Damn good friend, though. I think she’s dating some trucker now.” 

“I am glad for her,” Castiel replied, and something inside him breathed again now he knew that just friends meant what it said, that they were just friends. Not that it mattered, Castiel was just a friend too, but he couldn’t help but be glad about it. 

~*~*~*~  
Castiel was far from the expert on male friendship, but he didn’t think inviting someone back to his parents for Sunday dinner with the family was something a friend would do. Though the invitation did stem from Castiel’s own confession that all his family were a long way away and he normally ate alone on a Sunday. 

He was also curious about the Winchester family. He had seen them once, but heard so much about them. He felt almost as though he knew them already through Dean, though he knew how different that was from knowing them for himself. 

He would also be meeting Sam for the first time. It was odd, he’d presumed that with all the things Dean felt about Sam, he’d have wanted to have Sam to himself for the weekend, not to have Castiel there. But he’d seemed enthusiastic about the idea of the two of them meeting, as though Cas were just any old friend he might bring home for the weekend for his brother to meet. 

When he arrived, a few minutes early but not so much as to be inconvenient, he found the brothers outside drinking beer. For a second he regretting being that little bit early, stealing a little of their together time, but Dean grinned when he saw him and gestured him over, handing him a bottle of beer they’d had by their feet and introducing them. 

“So, this is the famous Cas,” Sam said with a grin, unfurling himself so he stood taller then either of them and offering a hand to shake. His handshake was firm but warm, it was a good meeting. 

“I did not know I was famous,” Castiel replied, and Sam grinned and was obviously about to say something when Dean interjected, beginning a conversation about Sam’s college that obviously went mostly over Dean’s head but Castiel found himself being drawn in to talk about the shortcomings of college libraries. 

By the time Mary appeared, greeting Castiel cheerfully and herding them in, he was feeling a great deal better about the entire thing, and Dean was grinning like he’d won something to Castiel was content. 

The food was excellent and, after an initial moment of awkwardness when John tried to figure out what to say to Dean’s counsellor, they were fine. In fact, it wasn’t until they were on the pudding that someone finally said something about the centre, Sam politely asking how he was doing. 

“Cas is taking some time off,” Dean said, before Castiel could gather his own thoughts on the matter. “That’s why I’ve got Anna for a counsellor now.” 

“Oh,” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow, “Is she any good?” 

Dean shrugged in a non-committal way which said everything. Castiel hadn’t really thought that Anna would help him, her methods were more focused on behaviour modification, though they were a little like a blunt instrument so maybe the directness of them would have helped, though it was clear from Dean’s expression that they weren’t. 

“Oh Dean,” Mary said, leaning over and wrapping an arm around her son. “It’s okay. You know, we’re still going to love you if this doesn’t work, right?” 

“I know,” Dean muttered, obviously embarrassed by the show of affection, but he returned the hug quickly before returning to his food. 

Castiel was floored. Shocked. He’d always presumed that, as in his own family, Dean had been pushed into the therapy by them. By their concern for him. He’d thought that Dean’s life must, like his own, involve disapproving stares and the knowledge that no matter what he did it would never be enough to make up to his mother for the fact that he preferred men to women. That there was no way he could ever be good enough. 

But here, where he had expected disappointment and hate, he had found acceptance. Found smiles and hugs. He mother would never had done that for him. Never told him it was okay to fail, because it her it wasn’t. His being gay had torn their family apart, it would never be okay. 

And here was Dean, with everything Castiel could have wanted in a family. The kind of casual friendship he had with Sam which Castiel had never received from his own brother. The support and love of his mother even if he was homosexual. A father who was there and caring and taking an interest in his life, if a little gruff and confused about the whole thing. 

He wasn’t sure how he coasted through the rest of the meal, he felt as though he was in shock, so as soon as they began to strand he bolted, heading out on to the veranda. He knew it was rude but he needed a moment to process. A moment to think about this. 

How different his life would have been with a family like Deans. If his mother had only said she’d love him more, maybe he would have been able to have a proper relationship with Balthazar, instead of making a mess of it with his guilt. Maybe he’d be able to be with Dean now, to let himself kiss him as he’d been thinking about. Maybe not, there was still his god…but how could god be to cruel as to make him and give him this love, a love that sometimes felt like it would burst him it filled him so completely, then have him deny it. 

He didn’t know how long he sat out there, staring at his hands, until the door opened. He’d expected Dean to come out, perhaps to express disappointment at what a mess Castiel was, how he was been so rude in rushing from the table, but it wasn’t, it was Sam. 

Sam smiled at him a little awkwardly, and moved to sit on the step next to Castiel without being invited, though of course it was his house. Castiel considered, just for a second, just getting up and walking away. He could never do that, though. Never just walk away from Dean. 

“I’m sorry for being rude,” he said instead, clasping his hands together. Sam gave a short laugh. 

“Hey, in this family, stepping outside after a meal isn’t anything unusual. I don’t think anyone else has ever noticed there was something wrong but…well…I was looking at you when mom hugged Dean.” 

“Ah,” Castiel said, both in thanks for the reassurance that Dean wouldn’t be mad at him and as a question. Sam just shrugged. 

“You know, this entire therapy thing. It’s just Dean’s idea, right. Not ours. I tried to talk him out of it but he’s got this stupid idea about an apple pie life and a picket fence and two point four kids.” 

“I…” Castiel started, then stopped himself, re-wording. He didn’t want to blurt out his entire family history here for this Winchester to pursue. Maybe later for Dean, but not for Sam. “It is unusual for someone to seek therapy without family motivating them.” 

“I get that,” Sam said, nodding sagely and looking so sincere, as though he was reading Castiel’s entire family history between his words. “But Dean has no lack of support. We kind of wish…well, I kind of wish…that he’d just accept who he is. I think he’d be happier that way, don’t you? Being the person god intended him to be and not hating himself for it.” 

“God did not intend us to sin,” Castiel replied, but then he knew all the religious counter-arguments to defining homosexuality as a sin. Knowing others did not believe it wasn’t enough, though, to stop the echoing of his father’s voice in his head. Homosexuality is a sin, repent.

Sam, perhaps wisely, did not reply. Instead he stood, stretched, and wandered around the yard for a few seconds, giving Castiel space before coming to stop in front of him again. 

“You know,” he said, slowly. “Dean’s in love with you.” 

“I’m not sure I’d use that word for it,” Castiel replied, dryly. After all, what could Sam know about this? 

“Oh, I would,” Sam said with a grin. “I’ve known him in love, even when he won’t admit it, and I’ve known him to pretend. He pretends with Lisa, with all his girls. With you, he gives himself away by caring too much. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation since he met you when he hasn’t mentioned you. He’d made room for you in his life, and he doesn’t do that for many people, not really.” 

“But he wishes to be straight.” 

“Wished,” Sam replied. “Things look different when you’re in love. And, well, I wasn’t sure but you’re in love with him too, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Castiel replied, seeing no cause to deny it. And he was. He’d tried to just be friends but it seemed every time he saw Dean he loved him more. 

“Then I guess you’ve got to work out if he’s worth it,” Sam said, then walked past Castiel into the house. Castiel closed his eyes and prayed. 

 

~*~*~*~  
“Hey,” Dean said, falling down to sit next to him on the step. Castiel opened his eyes and looked over, wishing fervently that he still found the peace in prayer that he once did. “Sorry to abandon you, mom got me to help with the washing up then Sammy wanted to talk to me about some girly shit. You okay?” 

“Yes, I’m well,” Castiel said, and while Dean was sat so close to him it wasn’t a lie. “Your family are nice.” 

“Yep,” Dean said with a grin, “We’re good people. You can come over any time, you know. I think my mom likes you, thought dad doesn’t quite know what to make of you. He’ll come around, though.” 

“I would not want to intrude.” 

“Not intruding if we want you here,” Dean nudged his arm. “Something bothering you?” 

For a few seconds Castiel said silent, contemplating. He did not want to tell Dean, he knew this would lead to a discussion he did not want to have, but at the same time he knew he had to. He wanted Dean to know just how lucky he was to have the family he did. 

“Yes,” he said, finally. “I little. Your family, I did not expect them to be so accepting of you.” 

“They’re pretty awesome,” Dean acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “What, you think they pushed me in to the therapy thing or something?” 

“Many parents do…” 

“Did yours?” 

Castiel had known the question was coming, but he still found himself at a loss as to how to answer it. He did not talk about this, did not share his family with others. But Dean had shared his family, so openly and so readily. Maybe he could tell Dean. At worst he would drive Dean away, and that might not be such a bad thing. 

“They did, though not directly,” he finally began. “My parents are of the belief that homosexuality is a sin, and not in a love the sinner, hate the sin kind of way. I knew from an early age that I wasn’t going to fall in love with a girl like they wanted me to. I think my mother knew too. She used to tell me of for not being masculine enough, not being aggressive enough. I would fight if I had to, but I did not initiate violence. Gabriel, my older brother, had already disappointed them. He was meant to work with my father and spread god’s word but he never believed. One day at dinner he simply announced he was an atheist then stood up and walked out. He did not cut of communication, he comes back sometimes, but we were never close. 

“My family controlled every aspect of my life until I went to college, and there for the first time I was free to do as I wished in a place where my parents would only find out if I told them. I have never had good people skills, but through the LGBT I met Balthazar. He was…charismatic. I don’t know what he saw in me, but we became close. We were lovers for my last two years of college, but he wanted more then I thought I could give. He wanted me to move in with him after college, to be open. To tell my family. And I couldn’t. 

“I prayed, Dean. I prayed for the Lord to help me and received no aid. In the end, it didn’t matter. I refused to come out and went home. Balthazar wrote me a long letter, leaving me, and my mother found it. 

“It wasn’t that she forced me into therapy, but she was so sad. My father stopped coming home, she cried all the time. And…and I wanted it to end. I didn’t want these feelings any more. Wanted to be normal, wanted to have a lover I could walk with down the street, wanted to make my mother proud. So, when she suggested the therapy, I went.” 

“But it didn’t work,” Dean said, softly, and Castiel found himself shaking his head. 

“It would appear not. I’ve just been lying to myself all this time.” 

“Hey,” Dean said, and he reached across and took Castiel’s hand in his own. It was enough to distract Castiel for a second, cause him to look up. Dean looked uncomfortable, but determined. “Look, maybe there’s a reason it didn’t work? I mean, maybe there’s no point fighting it any more.” 

“Dean…” 

“No, just…I went to therapy even though my family supported me because what I wanted most was normal. Or, no, I was scared of being abnormal. And look, I don’t talk about this shit so you’d better appreciate this. I was scared of what being gay would mean about me as a guy, but you know what, screw that. Winchesters aren’t scared of anything, and I figure that if I’m a gay guy then what I say gay guys are like goes!” 

Castiel wasn’t expecting the kiss, so when Dean moved in he pulled back instinctively against the invasion of his personal space, but Dean followed, pressing a kiss to him that was oddly artless, more desperation and panic then passion. 

But it was Dean, kissing him, and Castiel could not be expected to resist this. It was easy to tilt his head just so, to push forward a little and align their mouths more naturally. It was easy to respond, to move his lips, to open slightly, and Dean seemed to calm at the response, letting up on the artless attack and instead slowing down, kissing Castiel like he mean it, like he needed it. Castiel needed it. 

But it was Dean, kissing him, and Castiel must resist this. This was wrong, an attack against god. His family would loath him and Dean would leave, would discover that girl and leave Castiel alone and broken with neither family nor faith. 

He drew back quickly and was moving before Dean could register him running away. He knew that was what he was doing but he needed to run, he could not do this. 

 

~*~*~*~  
He went to church. 

As long as he could remember, church had been his refuge. Whatever terrible things had been happening in his life, the church had provided him with sanctuary. When his parents argued, when Gabriel had left, through those horrible months between his family finding out and his entering therapy, he had prayed. He would sit in church and feel everything wash away, feel himself purified, so it was only natural that he would go to church. 

He’d never felt less solace there then he did that night. The church was as it always was, quiet and peaceful. He prayed. First his prayers were angry, demanding answers. Why could he not change himself? Why, when he wanted it so badly, could he not be a man his mother would be proud to call her son? Why could he not have a normal relationship, a normal love? But slowly his prayer turned melancholy. Did god hate him? Had he some something so irredeemably evil? He wanted love, acceptance, and he loved Dean. Loved him in a way he’d never really loved Balthazar, despite what they’d been to each other. He wanted Dean, not just in a physical way but in every way. And here was Dean, presented up to him. How could he resist this? What had he done to deserve this torment? 

Finally, he prayed for a sign. Any sign. He knew it was selfish, to demand personal guidance, but he needed this. He needed to know what to do as he own senses were clearly suspect. 

He prayed for about an hour, until all his anger and hear and sadness were spent and he felt empty and cold and alone, no sign forthcoming. 

The first thing he saw when he stepped out of the church was a young man, a young man he knew. David, who came to church regularly. He had always reminded Castiel of himself in a way, a sweet, kind young man. He looked nervous, kept looking up and down the street. Castiel thought about approaching but, before he could, another young man came out of the shop across from the church and walked up to David. There, in the light of the church, the young man took David’s hand and kissed him, softly. It was sweet, David blushed a little and Castiel found he couldn’t turn away. 

He had his sign. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Through the walk home, all he could see there those two boys. In love, comfortable, happy. He had never been able to accept himself like that. He knew that in part he owed that to his family, to the twist in his gut that told him he would never be a good enough son for his parents, could never live up to their expectations, but more then that, he’d never believed that god could love him as he was. There is something horrible in knowing that something inside you is so sick and twisted that even god could not love it, yet here he had this sign. Maybe he’d had the sign all along, after all the first time he prayed for guidance he’d been shown the same thing. Two men together and happy outside a church. But now there was no condemnation in his heart, to knee-jerk away, just an aching. They had looked so peaceful, so content. 

Maybe god could accept him? Maybe his father had been wrong in his reading of the bible. Maybe Castiel had been wrong. 

He wandered in to his living room and took the photo album from the shelf, glancing through it. He knew it well, staged photo after staged photo. Some with Gabriel, some without. His father with a reassuring hand in his shoulder, smiling benevolently. As soon as the photo was taken they’d probably all walked their separate ways again. There were no candid shots like the ones which adorned the Winchester house. No Castiel caught mid laugh or hid father hugging his mother just because he could. 

If he wanted Dean, he would have to give up everything. 

Not just the idea he’d had about who he was but everything. He’d have to give up his job, he couldn’t continue to convert people and love Dean, not in practical or moral terms. His father would never speak to him again, his mother would never again look at him with pride in her eyes. They’d never love him the same way again. 

But, then, had they ever really loved him like he wanted. He looked at the photos, remembered the push of his father’s hand on his shoulder, always too heavy, and then remembered the clumsy brush of Dean’s lips. Wasn’t it a worthy trade? 

Besides, could he really go back, anyway? He knew it was a lie now. Maybe he could pretend to his family for a little while but what would be the point. He was not cured, would not be cured. 

He wanted Dean so badly. 

He didn’t want this cold house, almost empty really, filled only with those few pitifully memories of comfort his family had given him over the years. He didn’t want to be so lost, so alone. He wanted Dean here. Dean, laughing and smiling and drinking too much and talking about movies Castiel has never seen and filling up all the dark spaces just by existing. Wonderful and impossible and ALL Castiel’s. 

Really, that’s all there was to it. He wanted Dean, anything less wouldn’t be enough any more. He had to try. 

 

~*~*~*~  
Dolores sounded annoyed when she answered the phone, but put him through to Zachariah. He explained, calmly, the he was not cured. That he was a homosexual and that, further, he was in love with a client. Zachariah swore at him, argued god’s word with him but Castiel, sat on his couch in track suit bottom and a t-shirt and with a cup of coffee at his side and the memory of Dean’s lips on his, would not be swayed. This felt right, he insisted. More right than anything else had felt in years. 

He hung up on Zachariah eventually, satisfied that the job was over, at least.   
~*~*~*~  
The next phone call was harder to make. Much, much harder. He worked himself up to it with a plate of eggs and bacon, though he knew that all he was really doing was stalling. 

His mother picked up on the third ring. She sounded politely happy to hear from him, until he told her why he’d called. He told her about Dean, all about Dean. He told her about Dean’s smile, about his laugh. He told her about how Dean defied everything he expected, about how Dean accepted him, about how Dean wanted him to and how that made him happier then anything had in a very long time. 

He told her he was in love. That he believed he’d been wrong, that god could accept him. That the love he felt couldn’t be wrong, it wasn’t impure or sick, it was the best thing he had ever felt. 

She told him, quite calmly, to not call again until he’d calmed down and seen reason. Then she hung up the phone. 

He spent the next twenty minutes staring into space, wondering if he’d done the right thing, but deep in his heart he knew he had. He loved his mother, but this thing with Dean? It was worth everything.   
~*~*~*~  
He nearly didn’t phone Gabriel, content with the rejection he had already suffered. After all, Gabriel would surely learn what had happened from their mother, and they’d never been particularly close. 

In the end, though, he couldn’t do it. He owed his brother an explanation, at least. After all, Gabriel had stood with him through the worst of everything. Maybe not right with him, actually, but always there in the background somewhere. And he’d once punched that boy in 5th grade for called Castiel girly. 

For some reason, as soon as Gabriel answered the phone he found himself blurting out “I’m still gay”. Gabriel laughed for a good minute, long enough that it became uncomfortable and Castiel was contemplating just hanging up the phone on him. 

“Damn, Cassy,” he said, finally. “You only just working that out? I could have told you the entire ex-gay thing was a con. I know my cons. Come on that, tell me about the guy who brought you to this startling revelation.” 

Castiel blushed, but he told Gabriel about Dean anyway. Gabriel made little approving noises all the way through, then called Cas a sap and demanded an invitation to the wedding before hanging up to go “see to some business”. 

It was strange, not what he’d expected. He’d always thought Gabriel was with him on his quest to be normal, it was strange to find he was so wrong. But, at the same time, he couldn’t have asked for that phone call to go better. He still had the one family member, at least. 

 

~*~*~*~  
When the doorbell rang that evening it wasn’t entirely unexpected. He had, after all, essentially run out on Dean the night before. It felt like an eternity ago, like everything had changed since then. He supposed it had. Or, at least, he was now committed in a way he hadn’t been before. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

The other man looked up. His expression was serious, shoulders tense as though expecting a fight, and Castiel just smiled and stepped aside to let him in. He was done with fighting. He’d done nothing but fight for years, he certainly had no intention of fighting Dean now. 

“I’m sorry I ran out on you last night,” Cas continued, following Dean into his living room. “You took me by surprise and I needed to think.” 

“Yeah, what did you think about?” Dean asked, throwing himself down on the sofa. After a seconds hesitation Cas followed him, allowing their shoulders to brush. 

“I thought about God,” he said, simply. “And you. I thought about my family…a lot of things.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, squaring his shoulders. “Look, Cas.” 

“It’s ok, Dean,” Castiel interrupted, reaching over and wrapping his hand around the other man’s. “I…I am not going to fight against you here. You were right, I do want this. It’s stupid to deny what I want. For years I’ve struggled with being homosexual, struggled with the idea that god could love me yet give me this burden, but I’ve been so wrong. It’s not a burden, it’s a blessing.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” Dean said, tightening his grip on Castiel’s hand. “I mean, you know me, I’m not the religions type but, hell Cas, if god loves you why would he hurt you? I figure you’ve got to be okay just as you are or God would have made you some other way.” 

“I quit work today,” Castiel replied, leaning against Dean a little. 

“Guess that means you’re gonna have to look for work,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re smart, you’ll find something.” 

“I phoned my family, too. I told them about you. My mother…well, it could have gone better. But I didn’t want to hide. You must understand, Dean, that I have only had one relationship before this in my life. I lost him because I was ashamed, because I tried to hide him. I won’t lose you the same way.” 

“Sucks about your family, though,” Dean said, shifting a little closer. “You know you’re always welcome at ours, right? I think my mom wants to take you in and feed you.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel said, smiling for him. “My brother was a lot better. He said he was happy for me, that he’d been waiting for me to realise this. It’s nice, I haven’t expected him to support me but he will, it is good to know I still have some family.” 

“Yeah, that is good,” Dean said with a lazy smile. “So, your family know. My family know. We’re together now?” 

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. And then he kissed Dean.   
~*~*~*~  
The Winchester house was full to bursting. Guests had been wandering in and out for hours, Castiel had long since lost track of who many of them were. He’d been introduced to a few specifically, and he knew others, but as it was Sam’s graduation party he’d invited a load of people nobody else knew. 

Castiel still wasn’t great with strangers, so he’d made a point of sticking close to Dean and Dean didn’t seem to mind. More often then not he had a comforting arm swung around Cas’ shoulder or a hand on the small of his back. It was nice, to be so open and accepted. He’d had glances of this with Balthazar when they’d been in ‘safe places’, but a safe place wasn’t needed with Dean, not now. Everyone who needed to know knew and, as Dean said, if anyone else had a problem they could go hang. 

Still, he couldn’t stay with Dean all the time and a necessary trip to the bathroom had separated them and left Castiel wandering through the downstairs alone. He barely knew anyone here. It seemed the younger generation had congregated inside, leaving the older generation outside stood around the grill and arguing about the proper way to grill a burger. He’d spotted Sam in the kitchen briefly, the young man looking deeply satisfied with himself. He was right to, he’d worked hard for this. He’d also been a great source of support over the last few months. Things between himself and Dean hadn’t always been easy. There had been some argument, and once the initial zen of Castiel’s decision had worn of he had struggled, but Sam had always just been right there, believing in them. 

Someone rang the doorbell and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief before heading to open it. He was happy for Sam, but the party wasn’t his thing. Maybe he could slip out for a few minutes break after letting the guest in, Dean would find him if there was something important happening. 

He was almost floored when he opened the door to find Gabriel there. They hadn’t seen each other in a long time, though Gabriel had been surprisingly supportive in a long-distance kind of way. 

“Hey, Cassie,” he said, swaying to look around Castiel into the house. “How’s it going?” 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asked. 

“What, can’t I even stop in and see my own brother?” 

“How did you know to look for me here? This isn’t even my house.” 

“I know,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Your boyfriend’s brother invited me. He added me on facebook, you know.” 

“I didn’t know,” Castiel growled. He had one of the awful things but neither he nor Dean could particularly figure out anything it was good for other then sharing minute details of their lives with relative strangers. 

“Hey, you’d better give me a hug or I’m going to think you’re not happy to see me,” Gabriel said, and his tone was light but his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. Castiel sighed, then reached over and briefly hugged his brother. 

“I am happy to see you,” he said. “It’s simply a little unexpected.” 

“I like having that effect on people,” Gabriel replied with a cheeky grin. “Anyway, come on, let me in. I want to meet this new boyfriend.” 

Castiel stepped aside and Gabriel strode past him in to the house. For a second Castiel considered following and trying damage control, Gabriel could be a little brash and he liked these people. But, when he thought about it, the Winchesters were probably well placed to handle Gabriel. They could certainly match him for brash at times. So, instead, he stepped out and settled on the front steps, the ones where, all those months ago, Dean had kissed him for the first time. 

It felt so surreal to think back on himself. He worked in a restaurant now, waiting tables, and it wasn’t his dream but he came home every night to the small apartment he now shared with Dean and couldn’t bring himself to complain. They came here at least once a week and had an ongoing argument about what constituted ‘decent music’ and Dean left his dirty shirts on the floor and never did the washing up and Castiel had never been happier. 

“Is that guy in there really your brother?” Dean asked, stepping out on to the porch. Cas looked up and smiled. 

“The short one with the attitude problem? Yes, he is.” 

“How do you deal with him? He’s even managed to piss of Sam.” 

“As you know, I don’t often. He’s an acquired taste, they’ll all have come around to liking him by the end of the evening.” 

“If you say so,” Dean said, dropping down next to him on the step. They sat there for a while, listening to the sound of the party behind them, and eventually Dean’s arm made it’s way around his shoulder. 

“You know,” he said, squeezing. “I know this is the exact opposite of what I thought I wanted when he met, but it works, right?” 

“It works,” Castiel agreed.

Dean pulled him closer and kissed him until the sound of a smashing plate and a scream drew them back inside. 

He’d NEVER been happier.


End file.
